One Year
by RainynDawn
Summary: Over the course of a year, anything can happen. Not your average love story.


**Disclaimer: ****Don't own the Harry Potter universe. Merely taking it out for a spin.**

**Beta: Curse Weaver**

**Notes: So I know that I'm supposed to be writing the sequel to DSS right now (which I am), but after issuing a challenge to Curse Weaver, I had an idea that simply pestered me until I allowed it to take over my life for a night. This story takes place 3 years after the war. It's not your classic love story. You've been warned.**

**Oh...we're also going to ignore a huge chunk of the last book. That is all!**

One Year

_January_

The fainting trill of Bach's _Bist du bei mir_ trailed in the wind after her as Hermione walked down the empty stream. The flickering street lamp down at the corner barely cast enough light on the cobblestone pathway to be able to see, but she knew this path by heart. Head down, she carefully manoeuvred across the patches of ice while seeking refuge from the haunting melody taunting her from the lighted house just down from her.

At the corner, she stopped. Glancing upward, she frowned as the light in the lamp went completely out for a few seconds before flickering back on. She sighed and shivered, tugging her heavy wool jacket tighter around her. Harry had found it for her this past Christmas in Romania.

Closing her eyes, she drew in a deep breath. The air burnt her lungs, tears bursting to escape her lids. She hated this time of year.

Hermione bent her head, desperately seeking the warmth that the coat provided, and trudged on. Her thoughts trailed after the footprints she left in the thin layer of snow. Time seemed to wrap around her as she thought about the war, three years ago today. Still nothing had changed.

The bitter thought brought a grimace to her face. She envied muggles and their ignorant bliss. They could go on living, while the wizarding world was still seeking a reason to live. They had lost so many...

Brown eyes fastened onto the wrought iron fence ahead. She slowed then, her movements growing stilted as if she was physically forcing herself onward. The aged angel looming behind the fence seemed to mock her, daring her to enter.

And she did.

She travelled the same path she did every year, walking around Grace Aarons, Harold Spalding, and Gwendolyn Nott. She passed them in silence, not stopping until she reached the back corner. The snow soaked through the denim of her jeans as she knelt on the ground, but she remained there, eyes locked on the name on the stone.

Ronald B. Weasley

Her glove-encased finger traced the slight indented letters. _Beloved Brother and Son. He died valiantly in the fight for freedom. _The words tasted familiar on her tongue.

"I'm so sorry."

The wind caught her whisper and stole it away.

_February_

Hermione scrunched up her nose as the overwhelming scent reached her. Casting her eyes about, she frowned when she spotted Lavender Brown working her way through the crowd, breaching conversations as she mingled about. Her sequinned peacock dress definitely made her a stand out.

And she was heading this way.

Hermione ducked her head and veered toward the right, slinking behind a large man as she hastily made her exit. Her sombre black dress drew no attention to herself, luckily for her. Though she was not the only one, she noted, to choose the hue for the night's Ministry function.

"Excuse me," she mumbled as she bumped into a dancing pair.

Her eyes caught on the mischievous green eyes of the blonde woman and she smiled weakly. Was she two years her junior? Perhaps three? Hermione could not recall the exact age gap between them, or the girl's name, though she was certain that she had met, however briefly, at Hogwarts. She was also sure that the female was in a rumoured relationship with Draco Malfoy.

She also knew that the man the girl was dancing with was not the aforementioned partner.

Blaise Zabini simply nodded to Hermione, one hand still clasped within the girls while the other lingered dangerously low on the girl's exposed back.

"I should get back to Draco," the girl said, her voice soft and seductive. Hermione fought the urge to wince. "Come by tomorrow, Blaise." And with that, she kissed his cheek and left.

Shifting awkwardly, Hermione cast her gaze around. Lavender, she saw, had manoeuvred once more. If she did not know any better, Hermione would swear the girl was seeking her out.

With a frown, she turned back to Blaise to find him staring off toward his right with a frown on his face. She followed his gaze to see the girl wrapped around Malfoy. They appeared as a couple in love, while Blaise appeared as a man in pain.

"Dance with me."

She could have cursed herself for the words that left her mouth before she could stop them. Even more so, Blaise appeared completely disarmed, for he took her up at once on that whispered statement. He lightly grasped her right hand in his own, while his other hand dipped to tease the fabric covering her lower back.

They stayed that way, slowly swaying to the gentle tune with their eyes found everything in the room to look at except for each other.

Lavender had grabbed onto Neville. She looked as if she was about to cry.

Without a word, Hermione broke away from Blaise. With a small nod, she moved around him and left.

_March_

Closing her eyes, a breathy sigh escaped her lips as his teeth gently nipped the skin at the base of her neck. Merlin, the things he could do with those teeth.

Sweat clung to her fingers as she moved them over his back, nails scraping just the way he liked it. She arched her back sharply, urging him faster even as she mewled and gasped. Then she fell, dragging him along right after.

They remained in a furious tangle of sweaty limbs for a while after, neither moving for fear of having to acknowledge that which had just taken place. What had been taking place.

Her fingers twitched, then her hand, experimentally slow along the sheet until she touched their fingers together, just their index fingers at first before slowly twining them together. He drew in a raspy breath, but did not break away, nor did he grasp hers the way she was desperately clinging onto his.

She did not move. She wanted to freeze the moment, to capture it before their thoughts finally forced them apart.

And it did.

Without a word, he quickly jerked himself free from her, muttering to himself as he turned away, running his hands through his hair and over his face. Mumbled apologies covered her more than the flimsy sheet.

She watched as he quickly pulled his clothes on without once turning to look at her. All the while, he talked to himself furiously, occasionally spilling out the muffled apology directed to her. The last pushed her out of the bed, the sheet wrapped tightly around her as she headed toward the loo.

His words stopped her.

"We can't... I just..." He gave a frustrated sigh. She could imagine his hand jerking through his hair even then, the dark strands contrasting sharply with the gold glint of the band still adorning his finger.

She half-turned then, a sad smile gracing her face as she observed him. It was pathetic, she knew. Both of them were. Yet she loved him all the same.

"I know."

The whispered confession seemed to placate him. He was by her side in an instant, his arms wrapped tightly around her as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. She offered him the comfort he needed right then because she could not say no, because she wanted to take away his pain.

Because she loved him.

_April_

Her fingers flexed around the quill gripped tightly in her hand, the corner of her mouth turning down in a slight grimace as she stared at the passage before her. She loved her job at the small book company where she transcribed and translated books into different languages, but sometimes it was a bit much, even for her. Especially depending on the book, she was working on. Today was such a day.

Each time she took a deep breath, ready to lunge back into the translation, her eyes would fixate on that one word— dead—and she would be stuck once more. It was more so about the names that came before it. Fred Weasley. Remus Lupin. Ginny Weasley. _Ron Weasley_.

Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she snapped the book closed and tossed it to the side where it joined a small pile of other books she was supposed to translate on the war.

The bell above the shop door out front announced a visitor. Those were few and far in between these days. Private translations were a thing of the past, it seemed, but Hermione did not mind. Indeed, with all the work she got from book companies, she had little time to spare for private dealings. However, she hardly turned them down when the opportunity arose. The money was simply too much for her to balk at.

Wiping the ink stains off on a towel, Hermione rose and walked out into the main store area with a smile already plastered to her face. It faltered slightly when she caught site of what awaited her.

"Oh, hello. I didn't know you worked here."

The young girl with green eyes and blonde hair smiled hesitantly at her. As with the last they met, her dress was impeccable, though Hermione already knew all her outfits were like that if the gossip rags were anything to believe.

Hermione forced a smile. "I'm sorry. I don't think I ever caught your name?"

The girl laughed. "Silly me. I just assumed you knew me. I know it might sound conceited, but if you remain around Draco long enough, you cannot help but develop those thoughts. I'm Astoria." When Hermione continued to look at her questioningly, she added, "Greengrass."

"Pleasure." Hermione moved to her spot behind the counter in front of the young woman and looked pointedly at the two books currently residing there. "What can I help you with today?"

"I was wondering if you had time to translate these two books for me?"

Hermione flipped open the books and quickly observed them. They were old. Older than most of the books she saw come through her doors, and in their original Latin. "To English?"

Astoria nodded. "If you don't mind. I would like to present this one to Draco for his wedding present and, well, I simply cannot find another copy in existence. Father simply won't part with them, and it's just easier to get it translated into English."

"If you'd like," Hermione found herself offering, "I could include the Latin and English for both books." She smiled at Astoria. "Of course, it's slightly more expensive and takes a little more time..."

Astoria waved off her worries with a small laugh. "Money is no object and I certainly won't rush you. Mind you, I will be getting married in another six months so I'd like to have it by then if you can manage it."

Hermione finally caught sight of the glistening diamond that seemed to fit perfectly on the well-manicured hand. "Congratulations." Without waiting for a response, she quickly pulled the other to her. She gasped immediately when she saw the title.

"Amazing, isn't it?" Astoria said, sounding delightfully pleased with herself. "Or rather, I assume it is. Father threatened me within an inch of my life before letting me leave the manor with this. It was after I assured him I was bringing them here that he reluctantly let me go."

"This is," Hermione paused, trying to find the words, "certainly amazing." She smiled, letting her fingers dance among the pages. "Is this for Draco as well? Would you like me to inscribe it out to him?"

When no answer came, Hermione glanced up, noting the discomfort clearly evident on the other girl's face. The look alone was enough to tell her what was not said.

"No, please don't. It is for... a friend. He loves books and I," Astoria broke off with a nervous chuckle. Then, "May I pay for them now?"

_May_

It was going to rain.

It was a simple fact that Hermione could tell just from her hair. It frizzed out to uncontrollable velocity. She sighed in frustration before stepping out from beneath the awning. She knew she should not be surprised that it was going to rain—it seemed to rain all the time, after all—she just did not want it to rain today. Especially not considering how much time she had spent on her hair not even two hours prior.

Maybe she would have better luck in Romania, though.

Walking past the park, she climbed the sloping mound until she was unable to see anyone around. There, she quickly started looking around. The pair of broken eyeglasses was well hidden behind the leaves of a shrub just in case anyone happened to venture into this area and find them.

Romania was beautiful. When Harry had first moved here right after the war to take up a job as a Dragon Tamer alongside Charlie, she had thought him crazy. Then she had seen the place and had a moment or two where she was considering doing the same. It was too far away from home though.

While Harry needed the distance to forget, she needed it to help her remember. As much as it pained her, seeing the recuperating wizarding world around her every day gave her an odd drive to continue on, though it was harder some days than others.

"Hermione!"

She barely had time to turn before a pair of arms linked around her waist and spun her around. She laughed happily, looping her arms around the neck of the second oldest Weasley boy. "Charlie! It's been forever."

"Ah, love, you know I'd love to come see you if the dragons here wouldn't get so jealous of me seeing another female," he teased, tugging on the ends of her hair. "What are you doing here, though?"

That instantly brought a frown. "What do you mean? I was supposed to meet Harry today. We made," her voice trailed off as she saw the guilty look on Charlie's face. Then, softly, "He ran off, didn't he?"

"I'm sure he just forgot," the redhead was quick to say. At her prolonged silence, he rushed on, "Maybe he owled you and you just missed it, yeah?"

She nodded, fingering the eyeglasses still grasped tightly in her hand. "Yeah, maybe." Drawing in a deep breath, she smiled at Charlie. "In that case, I might as well head back. There is a lot of work I could be doing. You know I got a commission from the future Mrs. Malfoy. Wouldn't want to disappoint."

"Look," he started, stepping closer to her and brushing her hair from her face with a smile, "I have a fantastic idea. Why don't you stay here today, hm? Spend it with me? Who knows, I might be able to convince you to give up that stuffy old life and move here to have a sordid affair with me."

She laughed then as he winked at her. "I suppose it couldn't hurt."

With a joyous whoop, Charlie wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tugging her against him. "Come on, then, and let me introduce you to Brunhilde."

_June_

Hermione never liked to see anyone in misery.

Clutching her hands tightly together, she remained silent more out of not knowing what to say than being aware of the moment as she watched him standing in front of her staring down at the thing in his hands. It was cruel; she thought now, a blatant mockery.

When she had first contacted Astoria two days ago that one of the books was done, the woman had been grateful, never once stopping in her thanks until she saw which book Hermione had been talking about. The woman had stared at it so long that eventually Hermione just explained that she had been so excited by the prospect of translating it, that she had done it first.

"Can't be avoided then, I suppose," the other woman had muttered, a small frown marring her otherwise perfect face.

Hermione was not entirely sure what she meant by that, and she was even more confused when Astoria had left without the book. Now, as Blaise stared down at the book in his hands, she understood.

It meant goodbye.

She jumped when he moved suddenly, opening up the book. His brows furrowed as he observed page after page in that daunting silence, lingering on some longer than others until he reached the end. It was only then that he looked up at her.

"You did a good job, Granger." It came out as a soft purr, as if he was afraid to break into the silenced that settled around the room.

"Thank you." It sounded weak even to her ears. Clearing her throat, she continued, "I thought you'd like the English across from the Latin. I even managed to transcribe some of the original images using some simple spells."

She wanted to retract the words as soon as they left her lips. He did not have to say the words 'you knew.' The sudden stiffening of his jaw said that for him as he looked back down at the book.

Instead, he said, "I do, thank you. It's," he paused, looking up at her for a moment, "perfect." Then, "Why here, Granger?"

"Pardon?"

He gestured around and then lifted the book in his hands. "Why here," he repeated. "Why do this when you could do something else?"

With a sad smile, she countered with, "Why not here?"

He stared at her for a few minutes, a contemplative look upon his face before he finally nodded. Without a word, he left.

_July_

She watched him from the safety of the winged back chair in the corner of the room. She could tell by the occasional stiffening of his shoulders that he wished he were anywhere but here at the moment. If there was one thing that Molly Weasley was good at, though, it was guilt tripping people into doing what she wanted.

Sipping at the warm tea in her hand, she covertly watched him. She had not had a chance to talk to him in a while now, though she had tried. She had received one letter back for her efforts, stating simply that he had been busy and he did not know when he would get a chance to drop in. She had stopped writing after that.

She knew they would have to talk before the night was through, though.

With a sigh, she rose at the urgent gestures Molly was making in her direction. She smiled at the occasional person that looked in her direction as she passed on her way to the kitchen. Many of them she had not seen in a while. She was not sure how Molly had coerced them into coming. However, most would not deny a chance to see the Saviour of the wizarding world, especially on his birthday.

"I want a picture of the two of you," Molly said as soon as Hermione reached her. The older woman grabbed hold of Hermione and pushed her toward Harry. He looked uncomfortable for a moment before he forced a smile and slung an arm over her shoulders.

Molly snapped the picture quickly, and then a few more to be on the "safe side." Then, she hugged them both before whisking off to make sure that everyone was all right.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she shifted nervously on her feet. Never, not even when she had first met him on the train all those years ago, had she felt this awkward with her best friend.

"Happy birthday," she finally settled on saying, smiling up at him.

"Thanks." He looked around the room quickly before returning his gaze to hers. "Hermione..."

She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, burying her head against his chest. There was a brief pause before he held her tightly against him, his cheek resting against the top of her head.

"Hermione," he whispered, leaning back to look down at her. Then, he pulled away, merely extending his hand out to her.

Without hesitation, she took it. She would worry about regrets in the morning.

_August_

Hermione twisted around in her seat at the high-pitched laughter. It was not that the streets of Diagon Alley were silent, but the sound drew more than just her attention. She was not in the least surprise to see Astoria there, walking alongside another girl that looked very similar to her. This girl Hermione recognized as Daphne.

Quietly, Hermione turned back to her ice cream. She knew that Astoria would spot her before long so she need not call out to her. After all, it had been the other witch's idea to meet here to collect the other book instead of coming to Hermione's quaint shop. Hermione did not mind, though; she had been craving ice cream for a while now.

"Hermione!"

She glanced up at Astoria's excited greeting. She smiled pleasantly, but did not even get a chance to rise before the blonde was upon her, pressing a light kiss to Hermione's cheeks as if they had been friends and confidants for a long time.

"It's so good to see you again." Astoria situated herself into the seat beside of Hermione and gestured toward her sister. "And this is my sister, Daphne." Leaning toward Hermione, she continued, "You see, I didn't make the same mistake twice. No more assuming."

Daphne did not say anything.

"Would you like me to get you some ice cream?" Hermione offered, feeling derisively uncomfortable.

Astoria laughed. "Oh no, none for me. Must watch my figure, you know, with the wedding just around the corner." She smiled at Daphne. "My dear future mother-in-law and mother would both kill me, wouldn't they sister, if I couldn't fit into the dress."

Daphne simply nodded.

Reaching down, Hermione picked up the bag sitting beside her chair. "Here's the book, plus the two originals, both in excellent condition I assure you." She smiled. "I'm sure your father will be pleased to have them back."

Astoria took the bag and immediately passed it off to Daphne. "That he would," she said, "though he completely trusts you with them."

She could not help the blush that crept up onto her cheeks then. Dabbing her mouth with the napkin, Hermione stood. "Well, I really must be going. I hope Draco enjoys his present."

If there was one thing Astoria had mastered, it was the pout. "Must you? I had hoped to convince you into shopping with us. You know, for my wedding."

"Your wedding?"

Astoria seemed to find great amusement in Hermione's confusion for she gave a small little laugh. "Of course. Why, did you think I would not want you to come to my wedding? You shall of course be receiving a formal invitation in the mail soon, but I thought I'd just tell you today when we were shopping."

"Thank you and I'd love to come," Hermione said, "but I'm afraid I have other appointments today that cannot be cancelled." _Lie_. "Maybe some other time?"

That seemed to placate the blonde enough to let Hermione leave. On her way, she spotted Blaise standing in the doorway of one of the brand new stores across from the ice cream shop. He did not notice her, though. He was too busy staring at the table she had just vacated.

_September_

The patrons of the pub knew enough to leave her alone, and for that, she was grateful as she tossed back another shot. It did not burn so much anymore. The bartender had finally left the whole bottle with her after her fifth one.

The tears bubbled to her eyes without her being able to stop them. In that instant, she hated herself for being so damn weak, for caring so much. However, she could not help it.

"Easy there."

She tried to turn toward the voice, but found herself not as in control of her movements as she would like. Instead, she tottered on the bar stool precariously and would have fallen off if it had not been for the hands that stilled her.

"How many have you had, Granger?"

She snorted, deciding to ignore that question as she reached for the bottle to fill up her glass again. She had not expected him to reach out and grab the bottle before she could, though.

"Hey!" This time, she did manage to look up at him, glowering angrily. "That was mine." She made sure to say the words slowly with little slurring.

"Now it's mine," Blaise returned easily enough while sliding onto the stool beside her and signalling for the bartender to bring him a glass. After tossing back a couple in a row, he finally asked, "So, what brings you here?"

Even intoxicated, she was able to lift a brow at that. He rolled his eyes and filled his glass once more. "You know what I mean."

Sniffing derisively, she held out her hand for the bottle. It took a moment, but he finally handed it back to her with a soft sigh. "Far be it from me to allow you to drown your sorrows and humiliate yourself later," he muttered.

That did it.

"Don't you have other places to be, Zabini," she all but spat, trying to focus carefully on his face. "Your best friend's girl to moon after?"

The words stuck like an arrow as they pierced him. She watched as he jerked backward, eyes narrowed on her. Just as quickly, they softened, and she immediately wanted to take them all back. But she could not.

Blaise nodded his head once, then twice, before standing slowly. She watched him through glazed eyes, as he remained there, hands braced on the bar; head tilted downward, eyes closed. She could not leave it like this.

"Blaise," she said softly just as he turned to walk away. "I... I didn't..."

She sighed, aware of his gaze still on her even as she jerked her hand through her tangled hair. "It's my birthday," she admitted softly, almost inaudibly. The words _and he's not here_ remained unsaid, but he seemed to understand.

Reaching around her, he titled the bottle and filled her glass. "Happy birthday, Hermione," he whispered.

She watched him leave.

_October_

Hermione tugged at the front of her dress for what had to of been the hundredth time that night as she watched the dancing couples moved across the enchanted dance floor. Above her, the fairy lights twinkled, simulating the stars above. She longed to find Narcissa Malfoy to ask her the charm to get the lights to arrange themselves in the forms of the constellations, and then move with them across the top of the tent.

Astoria had ended up bringing the invitation directly to Hermione, though the latter could not deign why. Then, the girl had practically drug her out of the shop and shopping for a dress. Now, she could not fathom why she had let herself be talked into buying the emerald dress. It was hardly one that she would be able to use in the future; the expensive fabric and tailored cut assured that.

With a sigh, she let her eyes trail over the guests. At least she did not stick out like a sore thumb, she reasoned, and for that, she was grateful.

Rising, Hermione manoeuvred her way through the throng of people surrounding the dance floor. Astoria looked pretty, Hermione reasoned as she cast a furtive glance in the girl's direction. The white dress fit her perfectly, making her look like some sort of angel as she shared a dance with her father.

"Excuse me," she mumbled as she bumped into someone, and then promptly froze.

Blaise stared down at her, his hands tucked into the trousers of his pants as he rocked back and forth on his heels. The hints of silver on his emerald vest caught her eye, making her wonder where he had discarded his jacket.

Hermione bit her lip. "I..."

"Ladies and gentlemen, please join me in welcoming Mr. and Mrs. Draco Malfoy to the dance floor."

They turned as one, their eyes moving to follow the pair as they wrapped lovingly around each other and started to move to the slow tempo. They smiled, a clear image of the picturesque bride and groom on their perfect wedding day.

Slowly, other couples started to join the pair on the dance floor. A small bump in the shoulder by a passing gentleman broke Hermione's gaze. Turning slowly, she looked up at Blaise. He was not staring at the pair any longer, but at her.

"Dance with me."

He took her right hand in his without waiting for a reply, pulling her closer to him with a hand pressed to her lower back. His thumb brushed the skin exposed by the low cut of the dress. He stared down at her, his eyes communicating more than he was able to vocalize.

And she was scared to translate what he was trying to say.

Taking a step back, she let her fingers dance down the thin material of his white dress shirt, her eyes riveted on the silver threading throughout the green vest. His fingers grasped at hers even as she backed away.

Her eyes connected with his in the final moment before she apparated away.

_November_

Her fingers flexed on the counter even as she mentally told herself to count to ten and breathe. Eyes closed, she blocked out all sound and tried to calm herself. It was not working.

When Harry had showed up unexpectedly fifteen minutes ago, she had not expected this.

Hermione had been enjoying a nice cup of hot tea as she read the latest article about a new potion about to be released. So absorbed was she that she did not even hear the floo activate or Harry calling her name. It had taken him touching her arm lightly before she noticed his presence.

And the fact that he was no longer wearing his wedding ring.

Her eyes flew up to his in a silent question. Looking away quickly, he cleared his throat nervously and ran a hand through his hair. His left hand.

He had not meant for her to notice so soon.

She wanted to smack him the minute he said that, and she might have if he had not of caught her wrist and drug her against him. She struggled, and he held on tighter.

He was getting married, he had whispered, holding her close. She stopped struggling then. He had met a nice girl at the camp, a French girl named Marjorie. He was in love with her.

He let her go without a fight when she pulled back and turned, walking over to the kitchen counter where she now stood and had been standing for a good while now. She could hear Harry shifting awkwardly behind her, desperately searching for something—anything—to say to her, but coming up short. After all, what could you say to your best friend whom you have been having a sordid affair with in that moment?

"Goodbye," Hermione finally whispered, proud of herself for keeping her voice even.

"Hermione," he started, stepping toward her.

But she was having none of that. "Get out, Harry. Not now, all right? This is just..." Her voice broke then, and she had to take a second to draw in a deep breath. _Breathe_. "Maybe soon, but not now, alright? Goodbye."

She kept her eyes glued to the counter top until she heard the floo activate. She had never noticed before the silver specks within the green marble before.

_December_

Wrapped in a new wool coat she had gifted herself, Hermione tried to follow the footsteps someone had made in the snow before her. It was a game she had played as a child, often resulting in her losing her balance and falling into a pile of snow, which always made her parents laugh. But she was no longer that clumsy girl and she managed to keep her footing as she trudged along.

The fainting trill of _Bist du bei mir_ brought a sad smile to her face as she closed her eyes, stopping at the corner and letting the haunting notes circle around her. She forced herself on after a few moments as Christmas carols soon overrode the sad lullaby, taunting her as the muggles of the village joined together in holiday festivities.

Molly had invited her to the Burrow, but she had opted out. She sought the comfort that only the night sky and snow could provide as she walked on.

Eyes cast downward, she was not paying any attention to where she was going as she followed the train of thought she was currently on. Only to be jolted from it when she bumped into someone walking from a side street.

Her eyes locked onto his, both staring at the other as they stood there, hands tucked into the pockets of their heavy wool jackets, the snow collecting in their hair.

Slowly, Blaise reached out and brushed her hair from her face with one gloved hand. He smiled then, a soft, warm smile that called one of her own to the surface.

Side by side, they walked, creating fresh tracks of footprints in the snow.

_Fin._


End file.
